


Fortunate

by lostwithoutmyanchor (mysourwolf)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternative Ending of season 1, Fortune Telling, M/M, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysourwolf/pseuds/lostwithoutmyanchor
Summary: "You must be Stiles,"Peter said, voice smooth, and something inside Stiles resonated.His gaze roamed over the man’s features and before he could stop himself, he whispered, “Face like an angel, ugly as sin.”“Excuse me?” Peter asked in an indignant tone.ORIn a world where most people don't believe in soulmates, Stiles is convinced Peter is his.





	Fortunate

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the wonderful [ Green](%E2%80%9C//www.archiveofourown.org/users/Green%E2%80%9C) who beta-read this for me <3
> 
> This fic was inspired by the Steter Week prompts.
> 
> Cursive speach means 'taken from canon'.

When Stiles was nine years old his parents took him to a carnival. Of course he loved the rides and all the food he got to eat but what intrigued him the most was a small booth in the corner of the park, manned by a little old lady wearing a lot of jewellery. Fortune teller. She smiled at him and beckoned him closer and Stiles begged his parents to let him go. His mother agreed easily but his father didn’t believe in any kind of superstition and told him if he wanted to go, he’d have to pay for it with his pocket money.

So, Stiles went over and sat down in front of the old woman. He slowly, painstakingly counted out the coins from his little Batman wallet onto the small table between them. After quite a few coins the woman nodded and somehow swiped them from the table into her patchwork skirt. Then she placed her fingertips on her dirty gray and heavily scratched crystal ball and nodded to Stiles to do the same.

With shaking hands, Stiles pressed his fingers against the surface, carefully trying to not break it. He wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not but he thought he felt a little spark when he touched the glass. The woman grinned at him and let out a cackle, making Stiles jump a little. He knew full well this was most likely bullshit but he thoroughly enjoyed the show.

After a few minutes the woman started to breathe heavily but it was clear that she was faking it. She threw her head around and Stiles heard his dad curse from somewhere behind him at her antics. His mother shushed him, though, and Stiles kept staring at the woman. Eventually she started speaking in a bored tone.

“One day, when the moon is right, you will meet your soulmate. He will have dark hair and blue eyes. His face will be as beautiful as an angel’s but at the same time ugly as sin. He will be wicked and smart and yet need guidance. His heart will be empty and yet it will bleed. He will be burned by death and yet long to live. He will be yours if you’ll have him.”

Her voice trailed off before she shook her head and blinked. Stiles stared at her with his mouth open and she frowned at him. He was about to ask more specifics when she leaned forward and hissed at him. “Get the hell out of here.” 

He jerked back and jumped up. Turning his back to her he ran to his parents and threw his arms around his mother. “Mom, I have a soulmate,” he said excitedly, shoving aside his unease at the woman’s reaction. It was almost as if she hadn’t expected this sort of prediction. 

His mother laughed and ruffled his hair. “That’s exciting, sweetheart.” And while his father rolled his eyes, he still dropped a kiss on his forehead.

They went home in good spirits and that night Stiles dreamed of blue eyes.

~°~

When Stiles was ten years old, his mother died and for the next few years he didn’t dream of much anymore, too exhausted after crying himself to sleep every night.

~°~

When Stiles was sixteen, he stepped inside the one place he hated with a dying passion. Beacon Hills Memorial still smelled like sickness and death, and he had a hard time trying to stave off a panic attack. Derek’s voice through the phone only marginally distracted him while he checked out the room of Derek’s uncle. 

_"Yeah, well he's not here either,"_ he said into the phone and then suddenly froze, understanding the implication.

 _"It's him. He's the alpha. Get out!"_ Derek yelled through the phone and Stiles turned around, ready to run when he saw a man standing in front of him. Peter Hale, his brain supplied.

 _"You must be Stiles,"_ Peter said, voice smooth, and something inside Stiles resonated. 

His gaze roamed over the man’s features and before he could stop himself, he whispered, “Face like an angel, ugly as sin.”

“Excuse me?” Peter asked in an indignant tone. 

Stiles’s gaze roamed over Peter. He was indeed as painfully beautiful as an angel might be, though ‘angel of death’ was probably more fitting. He was a killer after all. More and more of the fortune teller’s words came back to him. He remembered the part about his soulmate’s heart and his eyes widened as he suddenly could see a red stain spreading over Peter’s chest. 

This shit was scary and Stiles had no idea what it meant but he knew he needed to get out of this freaking hospital, unsure if he could hold it together much longer.

“We’re going,” he ordered.

Peter scoffed. “Are we now?”

“Yes. You. Out.” With that, Stiles turned around and almost ran into a woman.

 _“Visiting hours are over,”_ she snarled arrogantly and Stiles felt something cold run down his back.

“The fuck are you?” he snarled back, teeth bared.

Suddenly Derek was there as well, hitting her over the head, like he was known to do.

 _“That’s not nice,”_ came Peter’s voice from behind.

Derek growled at him. 

“That’s enough,” Stiles yelled and reached behind himself, grabbing Peter’s sleeve. He started to drag him towards the exit, knowing full well that it only worked because Peter let him.

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

“Something you should’ve done a long time ago, Derek,” Stiles replied and glared at him. “I’m taking him home.”

“How cute,” Peter drawled as Stiles tugged him down the front stairs. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Before Stiles could reply, Derek jumped in front of them. “You can’t take him home. He’s killed people. What about your dad?”

At that Stiles stopped and turned to Peter, regarding him closely. “No killing or hurting my dad. Is that clear? Oh, and no killing or hurting any of my friends either. Do. You. Understand?”

Peter leaned his head to the side. “That depends. Did your father know the fire was not an accident?”

Stiles laughed harshly. “Six years ago my father was living at the bottom of a bottle, only working as a deputy and mostly sorting out parking tickets. He didn’t know _anything_ about the fire.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “But now he seems to want to make up for it. He pulled a lot of old files that I looked at and I think he’s getting close. So if you want to keep living in this town, and I have just decided that you will, we’re going to have to be really clever about this.”

He trailed off and let his words sink in until Peter finally nodded.

“Good. Now swear to me that you won’t hurt and/or kill any of my family and friends and that includes Derek now, so deal with it.”

Peter sighed dramatically. “Fine. I swear I won’t kill your family and friends and only hurt them in self-defense.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles shook his head but he let it go. It would have to do. Grabbing Peter’s sleeve again, he dragged him to his Jeep, ignoring Derek’s glower when he followed them. The dude had made an odd face when Stiles had lumped him in with his friends but he better get used to it.

When they arrived at the Jeep, everyone kept standing around, waiting. Eventually Peter said mildly, “Derek, I’m not going to ride in the back.”

Derek growled again and glared even harder but Stiles held the seat back for him. Finally he gave in, crawling into the back. Peter smoothly slid into the passenger seat and Stiles climbed in as well, starting the car. He used mostly quiet streets to avoid meeting anyone that would recognize him or his passengers.

“We have a guest room that you can share,” he announced at some point.

“What about your dad?” Derek repeated his earlier question.

Stiles shrugged and let out a deep sigh. “I guess… it’s time to tell him everything.”

“Peter is still a murderer. He killed my sister if you remember,” Derek stated, high-pitched.

Throwing a glance to his right, Stiles nodded. “I know. Peter, why did you kill Laura?” he asked matter-of-factly.

At first it didn’t seem like Peter would reply but then he slowly started talking. “I was alone for six years. I only knew pain. When Laura was right in front of me, I didn’t recognize her. My wolf only knew she was an alpha and becoming alpha would ease the pain.” His voice trailed off quietly.

“What about the spiral on that deer? Laura saw it online on the local news site. It’s why she came back. Are you telling me you also didn’t ‘recognize’ what you were doing, trying to lure her here?” Derek hissed from behind.

Holding up his hands, Peter turned around. “That was not my doing, dear nephew. I’ve been trying to find out who set this in motion but no luck so far.”

Derek crossed his arms and scoffed but somehow Stiles believed Peter. “What about the Argents?” Stiles suggested.

Peter shrugged. “I don’t see who and why.”

“But someone...” Stiles paused and continued in a whisper, “Someone cut her in half after you killed her.”

“I can still hear you, Stiles,” Derek stated flatly.

“Indeed,” Peter said, ignoring Derek. “I’ll get to the bottom of it, I’m sure. Right now I’m more concerned about Kate Argent.”

Stiles grimaced, remembering when she chased him and Scott in the Camaro. Then he realized something. He briefly glanced over to Peter. “She set the fire?” he asked softly. Peter nodded once and then stared out of the window. And it seemed Derek didn’t have anything to add either.

Thoughts racing, Stiles wondered what he had gotten himself into. He obviously had no idea what the hell he was doing, or how to convince his dad not to just arrest both of the werewolves but he knew one thing. No matter how odd, superstitious or ridiculous the prediction of that fortune teller sounded after all these years, he still believed it like that very day. Peter was his soulmate. Peter was _his_. And no one would take that away from him.

The facts ran together quickly now. “Harris helped her, didn’t he? He always likes the pretty ones.”

Peter slowly turned back to him with a smirk. “Then you must be his favorite.”

Stiles burst out laughing. “Yeah, no. He hates me,” he said and only then Peter’s comment sank in. Did Peter really think Stiles was pretty? It made him feel all warm inside and he prayed that Peter wasn’t just being sarcastic. Speaking of which, how did one convince someone that they’re your soulmate? And was Peter just Stiles’s soulmate or did it work vice versa?

Shaking off those thoughts, Stiles continued. “What about the bus driver?”

“Used to be in insurance. Faked the arson report,” Peter supplied, voice flat now.

“Ouch,” Stiles mumbled. “Those thugs. And the video store guy. My dad looked them up. They had a long rap sheet. Including… arson.”

“Yes,” Peter said, confirming Stiles’ guess.

“What about the janitor? Was he just in the way of you making Scott, you know, maul us?”

There was a short pause before Peter ran his fingertips over Stiles’s arm. “I do apologize for that. The need for pack is strong. I wanted, no I needed my beta with me. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Is that why you bit him? Would you have bit anyone you came across that night?”

“Possibly,” Peter replied with a shrug.

“That’s gross,” Stiles stated and Peter let out a rusty little laugh.

“So, the janitor?”

Peter let out a sigh. “Before I burned those thugs, I kindly asked them where they got the arson supplies. Apparently your janitor sold it to them from the stock for Chemistry classes.”

“Wow, is everyone at our school evil?” Stiles mused.

He wanted to keep asking questions but they arrived at the Stilinski house and there were more pressing things. Like getting out of the car and herding the two Hales into his home. There he gently pushed Peter towards the couch before he turned to Derek.

“Hey, big guy. Mind giving us some privacy? How about making us some sandwiches or something?” he said cheerfully and waved towards the kitchen.

Derek glared at him and said flatly, “You are completely insane. Don’t cry to me when this goes south.”

“Oookay,” Stiles mumbled and gave him a powerful shove towards the kitchen that made even the werewolf stumble somehow.

Then he finally turned to Peter and heaved a big sigh. “So, Peter. Buddy. Wolfy. Wolfy buddy,” he babbled, while slowly approaching the couch.

“No,” Peter stated, clearly unimpressed by Stiles’s proposed nicknames.

Not minding him, Stiles sat down in front of him onto the sturdy coffee table. He held out his hands, palms up, offering them to Peter.

The wolf just stared down on them, hesitating.

“Come on, man,” Stiles mumbled encouragingly. “I need this.”

After an eternity, Peter lifted his hands and slowly slid them on top of Stiles’s, their palms touching. An electric spark ran through Stiles and he shuddered. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensation. It was like he could feel a sort of connection with Peter but maybe that was all in his head.

“What are we doing?” Peter asked curiously.

Stiles opened his eyes and smiled at him. “We’re bonding, of course.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your soulmate.”

Peter looked at him with exasperation. “That’s not a thing.”

“And yet it’s happening,” Stiles countered.

“I see.”

“See what?”

“Derek was right. You _are_ insane.”

Stiles pouted exaggeratedly but he did feel his stomach drop. Apparently Peter couldn’t feel this at all.

Eventually Peter pulled his hands back and the sensation vanished into thin air. Stiles shuddered, acutely feeling the loss. “Harsh, man.”

“If this is all it takes for you to help me, you can have more of it. But we need to hammer out some details first.”

Nodding, Stiles rubbed his hands on his thighs, trying to stop them from stinging. The one good thing from this was that now he knew he had actually felt _something_ even if Peter hadn’t. He now knew that it was real and he would fight for it.

“Okay, Peter. What do you need?”

~°~

The next hour the three of them spent talking, trying to come to an agreement while they devoured the sandwiches Derek had made. Stiles had migrated next to Peter on the couch, longing to touch, but Peter was still an alpha werewolf, so he kept a few inches between them.

Derek, who had sat down in an armchair on Stiles’s other side, half-heartedly tried to argue that they could tell the sheriff and have him arrest Kate, but Peter insisted on her dying and Stiles agreed. The thought of his soulmate suffering like he had made him crave savage revenge.

“When she’s dead, we can pin the other murders on her. Make it look like she was tying up loose ends,” Stiles said and then noticed Peter staring at him intently. It went on so long, that Stiles blushed and had to look away, unable to read Peter’s expression.

“What about your dad,” Derek said for the third time. “I can’t imagine he would go along with this.”

Biting on the skin around his thumbnail, Stiles shrugged. “Maybe we can put off telling him about, you know, stuff. I’ll tell him when Kate is dead. I don’t think he will want to look too closely into it when I admit being accessory to murder.”

“You’re not going to be involved in this,” Derek said harshly.

“Of course I will, sourwolf. It’s the only way you guys will be able to stay here afterwards. You know, reclaim the territory and whatnot.”

Derek was about to argue further but Peter interrupted him. “But what about your father tonight? Won’t he want to know why a wanted fugitive and a missing coma patient are staying in his guest room?”

Stiles grimaced and stared down to the worn carpet.

“He’s scheduled for a double shift. By now the game must be over and he’s probably on his way back there, contemplating his failure of a son who doesn’t even manage to make it to the first lacrosse game where he would actually be on the field.”

For a few moments it was silent. Peter was frowning with his head tilted slightly to the side, and Derek did something complicated with his eyebrows. 

Shifting uncomfortably, Stiles snorted. “Jeez, I’m joking. It’s not that important.” He rolled his shoulders, trying to pretend he was relaxed. “Anyway, how do we get to Kate? This needs to be far away from any witnesses.” 

“She seems quite fond of her niece,” Peter said idly.

“No,” Stiles replied loudly. “You promised!”

Peter actually whined and then widened his eyes innocently. Stiles blinked, taking in his expression. It seemed like the werewolf was trying to see how much he could influence him. But Stiles was taking no one’s shit. Well, maybe Scott’s and of course his dad’s but that was it. If he started their relationship like this, Peter would walk all over him.

“We'll keep Allison out of this. She doesn’t even know about werewolves.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. She’s still an Argent. Do you think she’ll stay with Scott when she finds out?” Peter said blatantly.

With a tired sigh, Stiles dragged a hand over his buzz cut. “Allison is _good_.”

Suddenly Derek snarled, “I don’t trust any Argents. They’re sixteen. She’ll break his heart, one way or another.”

“Dude,” Stiles started but Peter put a hand on this knee and he instantly froze, holding his breath. The contact felt amazing, even through his jeans, and he barely he heard what Peter was saying. 

“If any Argent breaks someone’s heart, it is not the fault of the other person. They are a victim.”

Peter’s voice had been soft and Stiles frowned, trying to figure out the meaning. But then he saw Derek’s face go hard, saw him look away and everything clicked. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered, ignoring Peter squeezing his knee as a warning. “That _bitch_.”

“Stiles,” Peter said urgently, and squeezed even tighter. Stiles shuddered. Hearing his name from Peter made him feel all sort of things and his hand was suddenly very close to Stiles’s…

“I’m going to bed,” Derek said harshly and stood up. “And I’m not sharing with him!”

They heard him stomp up the stairs and bang a door.

“Well, that’s not good,” Stiles said and bit his lip. “You can’t sleep on the couch in case my dad comes home after all. In that case I expect you guys to hear him and jump out of the window.”

Peter gave him smirk that accentuated his scars and Stiles suddenly realized that for the past hour he had barely noticed them.

“I suppose that means we’ll have to share,” Peter said slowly, almost seductively. Then he lifted his hand, also scarred, and brushed a thumb over Stiles’s cheek.

“Whoa, bad touch,” Stiles yelped and scrambled backwards. 

“I’m wounded,” Peter said mockingly and placed a hand on his chest. “I thought I was your soulmate.”

Pressing his lips together, Stiles glared at him. “That doesn’t mean I will instantly let you sex me up or whatever. You don’t really believe it anyway.” 

Realizing his mistake, Peter lifted his hands. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I would never touch anyone against their will.”

At that, Stiles laughed. “You mean unless to torture or kill them.”

“Exactly,” Peter agreed and gave Stiles a genuine laugh. In that moment, Stiles knew he was totally screwed. The butterflies in his stomach were even stronger than that one time he had insulted Jackson and had seen Lydia laugh at his joke. And suddenly he was tired. What was his life? His best friend was a werewolf and hated it. His soulmate, who he had secretly been waiting for for the last seven years, was also a werewolf and the cause of his best friend’s misery. He was also a murderer and very deeply broken. It was a lot to process.

Rubbing his face, Stiles got up and jerked his head towards the stairs. “Let’s get some sleep, wolfy. I can give you some sweatpants and a shirt. I doubt you wanna sleep in your button-down,” he said and grabbed their plates, putting them into the dishwasher. He considered turning it on but the werewolves could probably hear it in their sleep.

Then he lead the way upstairs, Peter following him closely. Stiles managed to only look back at him twice, acutely aware of his presence. He opened his bedroom door and put on the light, jerking backwards right into Peter. “Jeez, warn a guy,” he said and panted, glaring at Derek who was lying on his bed. But Derek only grumbled something and pulled the covers over his head, rolling away from them onto his side. 

Rolling his eyes, Stiles took some clothes from his closet and handed them to Peter. “You can sleep in the guest room, then. I’ll go change in the bathroom and brush my teeth. I don’t have any spare toothbrushes and soulmate or not, you’re not using mine. It’s not like werewolves can get cavities, right?” he babbled and left.

When he came back a few minutes later he was dressed in a loose shirt that was showing half his shoulder, and flannel sleeping pants. And Peter was sitting on his bed, facing him.

“Dude!” Stiles said and flailed with his arms. “I said guest room.”

“I think it’s better if we both stay here in case your father comes home. The guest room faces the front of the house and he might notice us leaving. And if you’re worried about your virtue, I assure you, Derek is a suitable chaperone.”

Stiles stared at both of them in his bed and felt an intense longing. It had been a while since Scott and him had had a sleepover and cuddled and he missed it like crazy. And Peter being his soulmate was of course even more tempting, even if he wasn’t quite ready yet to get it on with a supernatural killer.

“Fine, get in the bed, then. But no killing, and no mauling or bad touching. That goes for both of you,” he ordered and went to get some more blankets from the hall closet.

Peter had obediently laid down and stretched out and Stiles gave him a blanket before crawling into the space between the werewolves. 

“Jeez, you guys are hot,” he said and then felt himself blush. “You know, temperature wise.”

“Shut up and sleep,” Derek said through gritted teeth.

It was a close fit but Stiles managed to wriggle into a halfway comfortable position before Peter spread the blanket over both of them and put his hand on Stiles’ hip on top of the thick fabric.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly from behind Stiles.

Swallowing thickly, Stiles nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine,” he whispered and closed his eyes. Thankfully, he was too tired to really get aroused but it was a close call. Instead he concentrated on how nice it felt to share space with two people he was surprisingly fond of. 

“Good night, sourwolf. Good night, wolf-mate,” he said jokingly. 

Derek just grunted but Peter nudged his nose gently against Stiles’s hair. “Good night, sweet boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll keep working on this but updates might take a while.


End file.
